Chandler?

 Reeling from my second divorce, I thought: "Who am I?" I realized there was no last name that I wanted as my own.   The idea of picking a name for myself emerged slowly and gained steam.  My first thought was Joan Chambers.  I was thinking of the poem “The Chambered Nautilus.” Growth and change.

“No, mother. Not Chambers. You don’t want to be associated with the porn star.”  Marguerite was right.  Marilyn Chambers was big then. “How about Chandler?”, I mused. “It has a literary ring to it and I am determined to be a writer.”  Pearl Chandler, my hairdresser, said she would be my “relative.”

And so, I emerged from the chamber as Chandler. When I announced my new name, I didn’t get much blow back. Not even from my family.  They probably chalked it up to my latest eccentricity.  I registered it as honoring my conviction to have a better life.